


Mrs. S' home for peculiar children

by another_maggies



Category: Orphan Black (TV)
Genre: AU, AU Teenagers, Canonical Character Death, Major Illness, Other, Slow Build, Someone will die, Terminal Illnesses, YOUNG ONES, basically a house full of dying children, everyone is in a house run by Mrs. S waiting for their impending death, everyone's between 13 and 17 years old basically, mostly cophine with a side of everybody else
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-21
Updated: 2017-01-07
Packaged: 2018-07-25 20:01:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7545981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/another_maggies/pseuds/another_maggies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cosima is dying and for children like her, there's only one place to go to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Cosima doesn't know she had it coming until she does.

She sighs, plugs at her nose tube. How is this happening?

It feels like the world turned flat. Like the sun is moving around the earth. Like the glaciers and mammoths are back. Maybe even the dinosaurs.

_That would be fun, though, dinosaurs. As long as they don't try to eat her. She's got enough eating on her as it is._

It feels all wrong.  
  
  
  
"Cosima? Sweetie? Please open the door?"

There's rapping, whispering.

_I can't get her to come out, Harold, she's been in there for an hour. I don't know If she's breathing. What are we gonna do, Harold, we need to do something, I am calm, why would you say that, it doesn't help..._

Cosima inhales, closes her eyes. She put her glasses on the nightstand, which is full of clutter (not for very much longer). As she exhales, opening her eyes the world is all wobbly and blurry around her. A smile tugs at her lips. It doesn't quite make it. She doesn't quite make it.

She cannot believe this is happening. To her. Of all people.  
  
  
  
Maybe it was self-produced, in a way. Reading up on that Fitzgerald girl with an almost unhealthy fascination.  
  
  
  
_Autoimmune disorder NFC. A file analysis by Doctor Aldous Leakie._

It was a nasty thing – cysts growing from uterus to lung, causing bloody coughing fits, trouble with breathing and – in the one in a million case of Jennifer Fitzgerald – death.

Cosima ate it all up. The weekly updates on the blog. The book Leakie published the week before Jennifer passed away. The trial to get the book off the market and Doctor Leakie into prison after Fitzgerald's death. She couldn't stop thinking, couldn't stop talking about it.

And then.

And then.  
  
  
  
"Cosima? Please. Your father.."

She turns her head, presses her ear into the pillow. She doesn't need to listen to this. It's not like she'll get any new information out of it.

Her father – _because calling him dad would be weird, you only do that with someone you are really familiar with; someone who just made you is whom you call father_ \- won't come. He didn't bother to come home six months ago, when it all started. Why bother now?

Cosima inhales, exhales, grabs for the brochure.  
  
  
  
To be honest, it doesn't even look _that_ bad. There are two and four-bed-bedrooms. Attached bathrooms with tubs and showers. They have a pool and a playground (which is kinda comical considering that the minimum age is 13, but maybe that's just to give them every possibility; after all, this is what this is all about). There's even a little terrace on the roof, for star and bird watching. And the library looks great, with shelves that are so high you need a ladder to reach them.

Yet. Still.

Something like this should be her choice, right? It's her life. She's 16. It should be her decision.

However nice that place really is, it will probably never feel nice to Cosima. Simply because it was forced on her. And that's not how her home should come to her. It should reach her by choice.

"Okay, Cosima. I will call the key service now, alright?" _We'll take that off your pocket money_ is left unsaid.

Cosima exhales, deeply. She gets up from the bed, opens the windows and tries to fan out the stench of weed with her pale hands.

"I'm coming, mom, okay? I'm coming."  
Somehow, calling the woman who plans on sending her away for her impending death 'mom' feels very wrong right now. But then. What can she do?  
  
  
  
Her mom – or maybe, she should call her mother now – doesn't drive her.

"I'm so sorry, sweetheart", she says as she watches her daughter get into the taxi. Even though Cosima makes quite a show out of it, coughing and moving slowly, it is not her mom – mother – who comes to help her at least, but the taxi driver. And that's how she knows.

Her mother won't come to visit her. She won't call her. She won't write. Cosima is already dead to her.  
  
  
  
The sun is shining into Cosima's face as they drive in complete silence. Putting the headphones with the laptop in the suitcase was a stupid idea. But then she'd thought her mother would drive her. And talk to her.

The sun is shining and people are out, enjoying themselves. Friends, family.

Cosima finnds her tube with her fingers, adjusts the placement. It doesn't really help the caved feeling of her chest.  
  
  
  
They arrive at lunch time. The birds are chirping, but that's about all the Disney charm the huge red brick house has. It looked nicer in the brochure.

The driver makes a move towards the building. She stops him. "I can take it from here."  
"You sure?"

Cosima nods.

She might not be able to choose the home she stays in, but at least she will choose the time she enters it.

Or so she thinks.

Something drops from the brick wall fence with a loud thump. "You're Cosima, yes?"


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Showing weakness is not like her, but she doesn't feel like this girl is going to judge her anyway.

Helena is 16, like Cosima. She's 16 with frizzy blonde hair, deep brown eyes and a terminal illness that Cosima doesn't know what it is. It would be kinda rude to ask, right?

Whatever it is the blonde has, it doesn't affect her physical strength (or she doesn't let it, but – again - who is Cosima to judge). Helena is carrying Cosima's suitcase and bags like nobody's business. She even talks to her all the way to the red brick house, showing no shortness of breath despite all the luggage she's carrying. Walk and talk simultaneously is something Cosima, dragging her oxygen tank behind her, can only dream of.

"You missed lunch, but that's okay. We have tea later. Tea is my favourite."  
Cosima follows her surprise guide into the house where they're immediately facing a flight of stairs. No stair lift. A lump forms in her throat. 16 years old. She should be able to manage a couple of stairs. She should...  
  
  
  
Thump.

Helena dumps the bags at the foot of the stairs. So they're not going up. Thank god.

"I think your room is not upstairs", she tells her in an accent that Cosima cannot quite place (again, she doesn't want to ruin any possible first impression by asking). "But I don't know. I'm not on beds. I'm on pick ups." Helena nods, self-affirmative.

There's a nearby chair. Breathing has gotten too hard for Cosima to be embarrassed about sitting down. Showing weakness is not like her, but she's got the feeling that this girl won't judge her anyway.

Indeed, Helena just watches with her big eyes.

Here they are, Cosima sitting, Helena standing, nobody saying anything. The lingering silence is more than just a little bit awkward, although the blonde doesn't seem to be bothered at all.

"So... how long have you been here?", Cosima asks, grasping for unoffensive small-talk questions.

Helena bites her lower lip, grins. "Four years." She nods. She does that (Cosima figures).

"Years?" Cosima expected something more among the lines of months, weeks maybe. After all she was sent here with no intention of her ever coming back (not alive, anyway).

"Yes. Too young, twelve. But they made exception for my sestra and me", Helena tells her proudly.

Cosima would really like to inquirer further about Helena's exceptional status and surviving rate, but is interrupted by someone calling her name.  
  
  
  
Well. Not hers. Helena's.

"Helena, there you are. S just called, you have to go take-" The girl, about their age (Cosima thinks), brunette, tall, slim (could be by her illness or by nature), stops in her tracks when she spots her. "Oh, hi."

"The new girl", Helena stage whispers in household noise level.

The not-new girl smiles at Cosima, then Helena. "Why don't you introduce us, hm?"

Helena is more than eager to fulfil her wishes. "Cosima, this is Beth. Beth, Cosima."

Beth gives a little wave. "Hi, Cosima. Did you have a nice trip here?"

The question is so out of place that Cosima, taken aback, doesn't answer. Like. How can a trip to your dying place be nice? How can knowing that you're spending your last hours in freedom on a car be nice? How can becoming institutionalized be nice?

"She's got very nice hairs", Helena puts in, "Don't you think, Beth?" She grins. "Krystal will love getting her hands on those."

"Well, only If Cosima lets her", Beth says, smiling. Unlike Helena's – all teeth – her mouth remains close. Cosima isn't sure which variant reflects more honesty. "So. You up for a house tour or what?"  
  
  
  
Cosima is left to explore the house with Beth alone as Helena leaves to take whatever she's supposed to be taking. They probably have a whole lot of medication in that house and Cosima wonders whether leaving Helena alone to find whatever she needs among other things is wise – but then that's not her problem. And for all she knows Helena might be a reasonable, well capable person. (Or she might not be. But. Not her problem.)

The size of the house is astounding. What astounds Cosima almost more than it's size, though, is its lack of inhabitants. Except for Helena, who bumps into them one more time on her way outside to do whatever (she doesn't say, just grins with full teeth and skips away, which Beth puts down to her "probably having food in that mouth"), they do not meet a single person.

There's no one. Not at the library. The kitchen. The dining hall. The living area and the PC pool. The classroom. The bathroom (one of them, there are many more, Beth assures her, she won't have to share with more than three people). No one.

And since Cosima is still shy about asking (for all she knows there might have been widespread deaths) she doesn't learn about it until she asks about Mrs. Sadler, who is the director of the place.

"S... I mean, Mrs. Sadler has gone on a shopping spree with the other kids", Beth says.

"A shopping spree?" That is a surprise. They go outside?

Beth shrugs, nods. "Well yeah. Some of us are still growing. One direction or the other." There's a hint of offence in her voice, but saying 'sorry' would only add to that. Cosima knows that. She knows about being offended.

"So. You go out and buy clothes?"

"Some of us still get money from our parents. And we get money for completing chores around the house", Beth says – as If that is what Cosima asked. Probably better this way, though. At least no one is getting offended. "Helena, for example, will get 5 cents for picking you up. I get 5 for the house tour... it's not much, but it is more than nothing." She shrugs.

Cosima doesn't know what a sufficient reply would be.

"Right then. Wanna see your room?"  
  
  
  
The room is nice. It really, really is. As her roommate, Allie, Beth called her, is currently out shopping, Cosima has the room all to herself. To decorate.

Allie's side is crazy neat. She only has a huge whiteboard with a colourful timetable and one stuffed animal sitting on her (probably hand knit) overthrow blanket. Except for that it's identical to the white sheet, white bed, white wall on Cosima's side.

She gets out her books first. Sorted by topic and how often they have been read rather than colour (which Allie seems to prefer). Any room looks better with books. People without books are not trustworthy if you ask her. Books are like people. Only they stay and never resent you.

When she's done stuffing her books (too many for the small shelf, she has to put them on top of each other (which her roommate will most likely find appalling), she gets out a few posters. They are new as she trashed her old once in a fit of rage. Van Gogh. Einstein. Indie reggae bands. The cold wall starts to look warm. Now she only has to change the white hospital bedding for her own and maybe, just maybe she will start feeling at home. Wherever that is.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Then there's tea.

It goes like this:

Cosima meets Helena. Cosima meets Beth. Cosima meets Mrs. Sadler.

And then there's tea.  
  
  
  
It's kinda odd, she figures, that they – terminally ill children in their teenage years - all come together to have meals. Especially since she imagined this to be more of a hospital, where everything happens in bed.

But no.

As the weather is nice they abandon the large dining room Beth showed her earlier for a picnic in the garden. Helena guarantees her that this is not something to cry about. "You are lucky. Picnics are the best", she tells her very seriously, "You can pick and choose. And nobody notices If you put things back you don't like." At this she snickers and then skips off, supposedly to get a spot close to the food.

Cosima doesn't know where to go. Helena is surrounded by other kids. There's so many kids. She doesn't know anyone. It feels like the first day of high school cafeteria lunch all over again.  
  
  
  
_What to do, what to do..._  
  
"Cosima", Beth waves at her. She slipped Cosima's sight, because she was sitting behind a kid that was previously standing. "Come sit with us." She throws her one of those beautiful toothless smiles and it's not like Cosima has anywhere else to sit, so she takes her up on the offer.

It's incredibly noise with all the kids talking, Cosima almost misses all of what Beth's saying until: "...Allie." With the added gesture to the brunette with bangs closely behind Beth it seems to be an introduction. Allie. That's the name of her roommate. The puffy pink vest and violet trouser definitely fit with her colour scheme schedule. Cosima nods. "Hi, Allie. I'm Cosima."

"It's Alison, actually", Alison corrects reaching out for Cosima's hand (how odd; she's never met a teenager, who shakes hands with his age peers), "Though some people, like _Elizabeth_ here, like to shorten every beautiful name they can get their hands on. I'm surprised she's not worked her magic on you already."

Beth groans, but the smile is still there. "Aw, come on. Elizabeth sounds like an old woman. Or Keira Knightley in almost every famous role of hers. Beth is much nicer."

"Well, I, for my part, prefer not to be associated with Ally McBeal", Alison retorts and though her tone is serious, she is also smiling.

The looks they share, smiling at each other and just gazing into each others eyes, feel far too intimate for Cosima to engage in. She quickly looks away and her eyes land on the food.

Melon cubes and sandwiches. That's nice. She actually thinks she might like to eat that. (Eating also prohibits any awkward conversation that might occur).  
  
  
  
"Everyone", Mrs. Sadler says. Only once. The noise dies down immediately. All eyes are on her. It's rather impressive, Cosima thinks. A second ago they must have been on helicopter decibel level. Now? Silence (if you ignore the birds; seriously, what is this place?).

"As you know, Paul left us a month ago", the director goes on, earning her a few coughs and Hunger Games whistles. She goes on without a trace of minding any of it. "You also know that we cannot hold his space open for any longer."  
"Bloody well you could If you wanted to", someone adds. Cosima can't see who. Mrs. Sadler doesn't seem to care anyway.

"Today we welcome Cosima", she says, "Who will share a room with Alison. Now. I know, Charlotte, I told you you would get the next new roommate. As of right now I think it's better If you keep sharing with Beth."

Somebody hollers at this and Cosima can see Alison blushing deep red out of the corner of her eye.

"As she knows your routine and can help you with everything", the director finishes. "Now. I would like everyone to say their name and hello to Cosima. That's only brief, you will get more acquainted in the next days. Some of us need to eat on time though-" _"She means you meathead." - "Do not call me this."_ \- "-so that's it for today, alright? Alright. We'll start with Tony and go clockwise."

The next she knows is a thousand names rain upon her. Some she gets. Some she forgets. In the middle someone hands her a sandwich. One girl refuses to introduce herself and stomps off. Helena hurries after her and Beth advises her not to take that girl seriously. "She's on a rough patch right now. Nothing to do with you."

Cosima nods, forgets more names. The sandwich is delicious.  
  
  
  
The girl she was supposed to live with is called Charlotte. She's the youngest girl at the clinic, only 13 years old, but isn't shy to display her disappointment in Cosima being "so old". However, she volunteers to take care of her when Beth and Alison skip off to the woods to do who-knows-what (but seriously: what would a girl like Alison want to do in the woods? It's puzzling.).

"You are lucky", Charlotte repeats Helena's words from earlier without knowing. "Most of us are about your age. 16, 17. You will have a lot of friends."

"Oh, that isn't so much about age, don't you think", Cosima tries. They are walking about the little park behind the house. Walking is an exaggeration, though. Charlotte's leg is in some kind of cast and therefore, any forward motion happens at snail speed.

"I don't have so many friends. Only Ira and Rachel", Charlotte shrugs. "And my doctor, Susan. But I don't see her that often."

Cosima doesn't know what to say. She opts for nothing.

"I used to have another doctor, Marion", Charlotte tells her, "But she left. I think. I don't know. One day she was just gone. Nobody knows what happened. Or they didn't tell us. We can't be sure."  
Too much information, Cosima thinks. But how to sensibly convey that to a 13-year-old?

"Do you have a boyfriend?", Charlotte asks, bluntly.

For a moment Cosima thinks about telling her that she doesn't like boys. But then she remembers thirteen and how confused she was and how mean kids were. She doesn't need a revival. "Uhm... no. Not at the moment I don't." It's not a lie, after all.

"I'm sorry", Charlotte says – as If not having a boyfriend is a tragedy. Then again it might seem like that to her at 13. It seemed like that to Cosima until she first had one. And it really just wasn't her thing. "You might find one. A lot of the older girls do."  
  
  
  
Cosima doesn't want to say, but she's relieved when that Rachel girl – british, blonde, but with a proper haircut, unlike Helena, tall, lean, clean, her left eye is made out of glass, so probably brain tumours – takes Charlotte away with her to paint. Then she realizes she's all by herself now. Suddenly Charlotte doesn't feel like a burden anymore.

She decides to go back inside. There are still a few people outside that look at her, thinking she doesn't notice (of course she does). She could easily go over and make friends, like Charlotte proposed. But the day's been long and she feels exhausted and in need of a smoke (hopefully Alison's still gone).

She needs a break.

So when someone taps onto her shoulder and says her name, she can barly force a smile. Supposedly whatever is on her face as she turns around and mutters "yes?" must looked very crooked.

"Uh. Hi. I'm Scott", the boy introduces himself. A bit taller than Cosima, but not much. Most average height. He's wearing glasses and his hand, as he shakes hands with her, feels very sweaty. If that's nerves or illness is still up for the jury to decide. (Not Cosima, though, because she's not going to be rude on her first day).

"Cosima."

"Yes, I know. This is Veera", he says gesturing towards the dark haired girl that's hiding behind him.

"Hi", Cosima greets, waves. Veera looks at her with weary eyes. Cosima can relate to a degree. Only she would probably cover up her insecurities.

"Mrs. Sadler said you were in the advanced science program at your school", Scott goes on.

And that's all it takes.

Cosima is not a vain person. She doesn't take much pride in any of her accomplishments. But she has a passion. And that's something she cannot hide.

"Dude, I love science. I've been falling asleep to The American Naturalist since I was 10", she smiles. It's not a joke, though. But the smile makes it more humble, in a way. "Beth showed me the lab. Is that yours?"

"Well, technically, it belongs to the clinic." Scott chuckles and Veera joins in, hesitant but clearly amused. "But we've pretty much occupied it. Nobody else seemed interested. Are you?"

He raises an eyebrow, as If it's a question.  
  
  
  
When Cosima crawls into bed (lights out at eleven, Alison insists) later that evening, she doesn't feel all that bad about this place anymore.

Yes, this is her dying place. But at least she won't be alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: next chapter will introduce Delphine... I think.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beth's POV for once

Beth is late. She didn't mean to. Making statements by being fashionably late isn't really her thing. And neither is hiking through the woods on her own. It just kinda happened. She wasn't in control of it. She couldn't do anything.  
  
  
It took her over an hour to even get going. She doesn't know why. It shouldn't take her so long. Never used to. But she wanted to get Allie and Allie couldn't come, because the new girl was still awake and then she waited, they both waited, for her to fall asleep and she just didn't and then Charlotte woke up and Beth had to get her back to sleep and by the time she'd done that Allie herself was off to dreamland. It took Beth another ten minutes just to contemplate whether she should wake up Allie (which she decided not to do, because a) Allie wouldn't have appreciated that and b) it might have woken up the new girl too). But she wanted to. She really wanted to.  
  
  
And that's the problem, really, isn't it? She's getting too attached. That's never a good thing, Beth knows. Not in a place like this. Sarah is living proof of that.  
  
  
But still. Even though she knows better she is getting attached. She is starting to care about someone else more than she cares about herself. After all those years of learning how to detach herself, to smile through pain and grief, to not care, she's holding someone dear. She cares.  
  
  
And that's why she hikes out into the woods alone, although she doesn't want to. She needs to forget about what's happening. She needs to let go. She needs a beer. Maybe a smoke, too.  
  
  
It isn't that hard to find them. They usually light a fire (and they have done so tonight). Besides, they're really loud. It is quite deliberate that they venture so far out. If they stayed close, S would definitely catch them one day.  
  
  
  
  
  
Beth pushes through a few twigs and then she sees them.  
  
  
The twins are sitting back to back, perhaps stargazing. Their hair flows into each other, covering their shoulders. Jesse has not come. It's probably for the best for Sarah to have her sister to herself, especially right now.  
  
  
Felix and Tony sit a few feet away, shoulders touching, sharing a joint. That's what she's looking for.  
  
  
“Sorry I'm late”, she says, approaching them.  
  
  
“Childs”, Tony acknowledges, giving her a cocky smile. “I see you've come without your little chaperone.”  
  
  
“Shut up.” Beth lets herself fall on the ground next to them, tries to sound dismissive although the colour creeping up in her cheeks is clearly betraying her. “What's that you've got there? Any good?”  
  
  
Tony shrugs. “Have a taste for yourself.” And so she has.  
  
  
  
  
  
She inhales, holds, exhales. Once, twice, three times before passing it on to Felix. She already feels better. The combination of her pills and drugs usually does it for her. “So. What are we talking about today?”  
  
  
“Cosima.” Beth turns to see MK. The 15-year-old has a the rare talent of hiding in plain sight that always serves to send shivers down the older girl's spine.  
  
  
“The new girl”, Felix explains as he hands MK the reefer. Beth raises an eyebrow, which Felix answers with a shrug. “She says it helps with her seizures.”  
  
  
Now that's a logic Beth can't argue with. She takes a sip of her beer. It tastes horrible, probably some of the home made kind. They should really stick to gardening. At least that produces usable products.  
  
  
“What about her then? Cosima, I mean.”  
  
  
“Well for one her name is cra-zy.” Why Tony stresses this issue puzzles Beth. He's one to talk. Antoine. That's hardly your John Smith.  
  
  
“So?” Even though she doesn't care at all, the new ones always find their way in time, she has to indulge in the topic. Because she knows If she drops it, Tony will return to question Allie's absence. She doesn't need that right now. What she needs is distraction.  
  
  
“Sarah doesn't like her”, Felix says in what he thinks is a hushed voice. The only problem with that is that he really can't whisper and it's more of a stage-whisper.  
  
  
The well known “Oi! Are you two talking about me?” that follows was probably inevitable.  
  
  
  
  
  
Beth steals the spliff from Tony's lips as the twins approach, only to lose it to Sarah seconds later. She takes a smoke, raises her eyebrows, points her lips, impressed. “Well I must say, this is only half as shite as the last one, Tony”, she says, handing it to Helena. Beth doesn't think there's a lot of things those two don't share.  
  
  
“I'll take that as a compliment.” The bearded teen tips his hat.  
  
  
Sarah ignores him in the way she does. They all know, deep inside, that she runs this school. She's been here the longest, she knows everything about everyone, she's practically Mrs. S' daughter. Sarah runs this place. Most of them know it. And she most certainly does.  
  
  
“So. Who do I not like? And why does Childs care? I thought your search for a sweetheart was over?”  
  
  
Beth swallows. She came here to not think about this. Not to think about this. “We were talking about Cosima”, she says, because denying it doesn't have a purpose. Admitting, on the other hand, might also have the perks of getting her of the leash regarding Allie.  
  
  
“Cosi-who?”  
  
  
Helena giggles, shakes her head. Her eyes are wide even for the dim light they hide in. She really shouldn't be smoking. Ever. Like she doesn't skip enough meals as it is. “Cosima, sestra”, she corrects her, “Cosima Niehaus... sounds like when Japan people say hello.” She bows in demonstration, arms by her side and once again Beth wonders what exactly they did to Helena in the Ukraine. It's a hopeless quest.  
  
  
Sarah's amused smile dies when she realizes. “What about her? You're not trying to bring her here, are you? Because you know this is dangerous enough with just us and at least-”  
  
  
“No, no.” Appeasing Sarah is one of the Herculean tasks only a few ever master. Beth is seldom one of them. “We were just chatting, that's all.”  
  
  
“Yeah”, Felix jumps in, he usually knows how to push buttons with Sarah. They're like siblings, in a way. “Talking about the new ones is one of the few gossip treats we get. Remember when Beth first came?”  
  
  
“I thought you were a cop with your pretty clothes and the glasses and you were coming to take down Tony's gardening”, Helena says, giggles. Beth is grateful, because it seems to relief some tension in their unofficial leader.  
  
  
“She tried to steal your 'gun'”, Felix remembers, drawing little quotes into the night air with his fingers.  
  
  
“It was a hairbrush”, Helena nods. “Very nice hairbrush, though.” So that's how she lost it. Interesting. Beth takes another sip. She hopes, wishes, prays that Sarah has forgotten all about their first topic now. They can make fun of her, that's okay.  
  
  
But If they go back to Cosima. If they go back to the reason why Sarah doesn't like her. If Sarah goes back to thinking about the one space that was held open for four weeks and then closed. Closed. Closed for Cosima.  
  
  
They really shouldn't go there.  
  
  
  
“So. About the new girl”, Sarah says.  
  
  
Shit. How can they stop this? Beth looks to Tony for assistance, but he avoids his eyes. Coward. Helena is busy rolling another bud. Felix just tweaks his lips. Good luck, Childs.  
  
  
Well.  
  
  
“I know you-”  
  
  
“No, you don't know. That's the problem. You don't know. It's been four weeks. Four goddamn weeks without a bloody word! As If he's got so much to do wherever he is-”  
It takes two sentences for her lighter shadow to appear at her side. “Sarah”, she says.  
  
  
“And S, she knows he wants to come back. She knows he will come back. But what does she do? She robs him of the sheer possibility just so we-”  
  
  
“Sarah.” Her hands touch her sister's back, gently.  
  
  
“So this new girl comes marching in, taking his place as If nobody's business, but guess what: It is my business!”  
  
  
“Sarah.” Finally their eyes meet and there's this silent understanding. “Let's go back to stargazing.”  
  
  
“That was close”, Felix sighs as the two stomp and hop off.  
  
  
Somebody clears a throat. Raised bottle and straight eyeliner she's just standing there, smiling uncertainly.  
  
  
“Am I too late for the party?”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Surprisingly, life goes on for Cosima

****

**_Another one bites the dust. How one woman found her purpose in guiding dying teens through their last moments on earth._**

  


Midway, British Columbia – “It's not easy, but we make it work”, are the words Siobhan Sadler (47) gives when asked what her life, taking care of 16 teenagers with fatal diseases, is like. She says it with a smile, and a moment later scolds one of the teens for jumping around between some stones in the garden. The young girl's life is already cut short. No need to push her luck.  
  
The kids, ranging in the ages from 13 – 17, ten girls, six boys, have all arrived at this place without any hope to ever return home. Despite the heavily filled medical cabinet and quite an amount of further medical equipment, this is not a hospital. It is a hospice. And what a difference that makes.  
  
_"I don't see [death] in them" - Siobhan Sadler, director of Kendall Malone's shelter_  
A place like the one Sadler has been running since five years is – although not singular – rare. “We've had children from all other the world”, recalls the widow, who opened the institution after witnessing a young adult whither away in the hospital, “Germany, France [you name it]... Unfortunately, they are not with us any longer.” Indeed, most teenagers come to stay forever and when they do leave it is usually in the hearse.  
  
As far as education goes, home school is available to all of them. However, subjects and length of their studies are completely up to the children themselves. “We offer various activities, but we won't make them do [anything]. They all have days on which school just isn't the thing for them. I don't see why [in their last months] I would make them do something they're not interested in”, Sadler explains her philosophy. A reasonable decision given the fact that they will not be able to ever work anyway.  
Not really a hospital, not really a boarding school - so what is this place that parents can send their teenagers to, when all hope for a cure is lost? “I'd like to consider it their last home. A place they will be happy to be at.”, hopes Sadler. A place they will be remembered at when they are long gone. Not only from the house they once used to call home, the hospital they once used to call hope, but the earth they once used to walk upon and now rest ben-

 

 

Cosima's lecture ends abruptly when the paper is pulled out of her hands. Just like that.  
Yet it doesn't take her by surprise. Not as much as it would have four months ago when she first arrived.  
Only slightly startled, she turns around slowly to – casually – check out whoever grabbed it from her grasp.

  


It's Beth, forehead adorned with a frown and the fresh bruise from when she actually did trip running on the stones. In her defence: it was very wet out yesterday.

  


“Now that's a load of crap.”

  


Cosima shrugs. “I guess so.”

  


Beth continues reading, Cosima watches in silence. There's another bruise on Beth's throat. Or so she says. To Cosima it looks more like a hickey. But then, Beth bruises easily. In the past seventeen weeks Cosima has not once seen her without any bruises. So, it might actually be a bruise (but really it's not and who does Beth think she's kidding?).

  


“S won't like this”, Beth says.

“I guess so”, Cosima agrees.

  


Beth raises an eyebrow, annoyed. “Are you even listening?”

  


“Yeah... yeah, of course.” She is. Was. Stopped, though. And for a good reason.  
She had been so focused on reading she didn't notice Delphine come in and plop down in the egg chair by the window. The French is wearing a comfy sweater, 'tis the season, tights and a skirt riding halfway up her upper thighs as she pulls up her legs to put the book she's reading down to rest on them-

  


“Oh my god.”  
_Oops._ Beth has followed her gaze, apparently. Her sigh says so. Cosima can't help the grin creeping up her lips. She hasn't felt so alive since – well, not so long, really. But still.

  


Beth settles onto the sofa next to her. Weirdly enough that she's waited until just now. It's far more comfortable to read sitting down. Besides, there's all the opportunities of propping up legs and skirts riding up said legs – damn it, Cosima!  
When the older girl speaks to her again it's in a whisper. “Why haven't you made a move already? It must have been weeks.”

  


Months. Now it's Cosima's turn to sigh. Because Beth's not the first to ask her this question. And she most certainly won't be the last. Hell, Cosima's been asking herself this question a thousand times (or maybe a hundred, who keeps count). The stupid article, for what it's worth, is true about one thing: time is not in their favour.  
So, why doesn't she?  
  
The answer is simple. As simple as it's selfish.  
She doesn't want to hear Delphine's views on the matter. She doesn't want to be turned down and she doesn't want her to reciprocate her feelings.  
What Cosima wants is this:  
She wants to have a crush. She doesn't want a broken heart. She doesn't want a relationship. She wants to hold on to what could be, rather than know what can't, what isn't.

  


Cosima shrugs. “Dunno. It's just... never the right moment, you know?”

  


“Sure.” In the way Beth drags it out it really doesn't sound like she's sure. Well. Whatever. She's getting up anyway. “Gotta dash -'lena wants to join in on Allie's crafts today.” That's basically war. “Do you mind if I take this up to S?” _Georgia Straight_ rustles as it's waved through the air.

  


Cosima's eyes wander. Stop on Delphine, who's just pushing a stray strand of golden hair behind her ear. “No... No, I really don't mind.”

 

 

 

“I wish we could have a picnic”, Helena mumbles, her brown eyes wistfully gazing out of the picture windows. 

  


“It's too cold out, meathead”, Sarah tells her gently.

  


Weirdly enough, Helena doesn't correct her at the unwanted pet-name, just keeps on staring. Out of the window to the gate that's usually closed, but open today. Open to let the cars come through. The cars carrying their parents.  
Well. Not theirs, obviously. Not Sarah's and Helena's. They don't have any of those.

  


Sarah bumps her shoulder against her sisters, roughly. They are like this. “Save this staring for the big screen, will ya?” It's supposed to make Helena laugh. She doesn't laugh.  
“Oh c'mon...” The way she doesn't laugh worries Sarah, she'd never admit it out loud, though. “Aren't you excited to see the movie? Eat lots of popcorn and nachos?”

  


The blonde sighs heavily and, in a way, this is worse than no reply at all.

  


Cosima sitting on the staircase, legs dangling down between the banister, can't relate to the twins' pain today. She's glad her mother is not coming. If she had it would have confuted Cosima's theory. The biggest fear of every scientist.  
But no. Theory still intact. She's dead to her family. And it doesn't bother her, not a lot, not anymore. (Maybe it's better like this – losing your family after knowing them all your life – than whatever happened to the twins.)

  


“Jesus, Ira, she won't even look at your goddamn tie!” There's no need to look up for Cosima to know that it's Tony thumping down the stairs. Tony's also in the cinema trip faction. His parents basically abandoned him when he came out to them (basically in this case means, cut him out of their insurance and dropped him off at a homeless shelter). There's little to no chance of them spontaneously showing up. 

Tony plops down next to her. “Ira has tried like seventeen ties already.” He shakes his head. “It's not like they're going to a photo shooting.”

  


“Their mom is pretty involved, isn't she?”

  


He shrugs. “It's a bit late for that, don't you think? For Rachel that is.”

  


In return, Cosima shrugs. She doesn't know a lot about Rachel. Only that she's been to some pretty fancy boarding schools (Dye? Ded? Something like that.) teaching her all the right lingo for all those high society situations. But apart from that? She didn't even know Ira and Rachel were related before yesterday (never mind brother and sister).

  


Thank God Tony changes the topic. Probably wise. They would've quickly run out on material. “What's up with them?”

  


She follows his gaze to where the twins are standing, completely still, staring out of the window. “I guess Helena isn't taking this whole family-visit-thing too well.”

  


“Thing two probably misses Tom and Lisa more than Jesse does himself.”

  


“His parents?” Rachel isn't the only one Cosima doesn't know a lot about. She also lacks knowledge in the department of Helena's boyfriend, Jesse (for starters she doesn't know: his last name, his eye colour (the cap gets in the way), or how he got into the wheelchair... well, anything really).

  


“Used to come by every second weekend to take him back home. Her too, sometimes. They even did a few nice trips.” Tony looks away. She doesn't suppose anyone ever stopped by to take him on any trips.

  


“What happened?”, Cosima asks, just to keep the conversation going.

  


Her friend (or is he?) shrugs. “Tom lost his job, Jesse his ability to walk. They had to sell the car and move. They skype once a week, that's it.” The way he says it tells Cosima so much more than all the new information about Jesse (at least the wheelchair thing is cleared – illness related, she could have guessed), but she isn't going to be a pain about it. Tony will tell her in his own time. Maybe. Surely.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for not updating in forever. If anyone's still interested I'll do my best to finish this story before S5.

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: already published on my ff (another.maggie), but decided to take up AO3.


End file.
